#Do you really wanna die like a virgin boy

[goldensakuma]

i am in. Immense Pain

[chaos-and-clowns]

HHHHHH

CELEBRATORY DRAWING BC IM FINALLY WRITING LORE AND THE FIC I WANTED TO WRITE!1!!1!

(bad angle but Its fine, lol)

[marsh-sonarr]

Finally challenged myself to do one of my characters with this song

[project-perfiful]

LOVING AND LIKING, THEYRE JUST ONE IN THE SAME, SAME 🎶 🎶 🎶

I’m obsessed with Hatsune Miku now lmao. This is my absolute favvv song rn and it inspired me so much that it pulled me out of a months long art block :D!!

[mlmmetalhead]

Parker Bradley x m.reader headcanons

nsfw under the cut! minors dni

I love my boy so much he doesn’t get nearly enough recognition, and even then mostly as an add-on to Chance😔

divider by @uzmacchiato

i like to think none of the objects have a concept of sexuality in the traditional sense, and there’s no stigma around same sex attraction. which is a plus, because if he were a person originally, parker would be a very conflicted guy.

he would also be lying if he said his feelings were totally and fully dependent on the dice roll. when push came to shove, he found himself biting down his lip and hoping for a love result on the die, even though he would never in a million years admit it.

when you two are officially dating, he’s so clingy. will want to have his lips on yours or your cheeks, neck, shoulders etc constantly. not even in an erotic manner, just genuinely can’t hold back his excitement.

expects and wants the same from you, although he’d never say it exactly, at most if he ever gets really touch starved, he might say like: “time for love… you need to keep your love stats in check or they might drop..”

if you have a game night, no matter what the game is, parker will always sit cuddled up to you or with his head on your shoulder, blinking up at you with his smiley eyes. and he’s not checking your cards, honest! he would never cheat, although your presence next to him might as well be considered an illegal buff it feels so good.

he has enough humility however, to leave out the more intimate moments for when you two are alone.

parker loves sitting on your lap, is what I’m saying. he loves nuzzling your neck, placing little kisses on it as he barely perceptively grinds into you.

sometimes, he’d purposefully climb into your lap to distract you from something else when he’s not feeling like he’s getting enough attention from his lover.

“wanna play something, loverrrrr?” he would mumble, annoyingly rolling his sounds as he batted his eyes at you as if playing innocent. “your work looks soooo boring… i’m sure a round of Dos can put a smile on that pretty, handsome, non-cheating face.”

puppy boy is what I mean.

sex with him is a little more tricky, because he probably isn’t really interested in it if you don’t present it to him in the form of a game.

you can always also just play any other game of Parker’s with an added element of whoever loses get to do whatever he wants with the other.

it’s not because he doesn’t want you, of course! don’t get me wrong, he is very horny and even if he’s a virgin, not innocent by any means. only reason is that when achieved through a game-ified system or rules, it feels so much more satisfying for him. parker wants to work for it, to win over your affection, or other way around.

he is a switch and I’m not taking any notes on this. likes it when you plunge into him, any position he will take you. his favourite in bottoming is any which involves you holding him up in some way. it’s just so hot for him when you’re overpowering him, even if it’s not particularly hard, he is a kind of scrawny guy after all, and without those accessories he was pretty easy to lift. For you, anyways.

so loud. so, so loud and isn’t even ashamed of it. if you see him throwing his head back, if you don’t want the whole house (literally) to find out what you’re doing right now, cover his mouth immediately.

moans and yelps just about anything and everything.

“m- ah- oh! [name]! yeah! right there! like that!”

“mhm! so handsome! so hot!”

“agh! I like your- technique!”

also likes having your cum all over him, except his hair! more so, likes when you watch him lick it up.

after the act though, he gets so flustered. a bumbling, blushing mess. hides his face in your neck and giggles very nervously if you try to talk about it.

don’t have a conclusion for this one. love my baby so sooo much such a cutie.

[heartseungbin]

OMGGG!! We need virgin beomseok 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ lowkey instead of him being obsessed with suho I need him obsessed with US instead! 👅 I’d give him all the attention 🧘🏾‍♀️ -🧁

(also so random but FUCK his dad omgg. He can DIE)

THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY O.B

synopsis; you and beomseok do it at a party

warnings; somewhat public fucking, overstimulation, exploration of choking?? (lit one mention), mention of alcohol, virgin!beomseok, unprotected sex (wrap ts before you fuck a pretty boy)

notes; really airing myself and my kinks out with this one smh "FREAK" you all yell in unison as you point at me, throwing stones and tomatoes💔💔 #freakmcnasty bro I cannot believe it took me a month to write this..I lowkey want my chance with reader next move beomseok🤨

This party is intense.

It's Beomseok's first time at a house party and he was anxious to say the least.

"I'm telling you Beomie, we can leave whenever you want. You sure?" I search his eyes, taking hold of his shaking hands. He cast his gaze to the ground for a second as I gently squeeze his hands, before looking back at me. He softly shakes his head, "I'm okay." I smile, nodding in understanding.

"We'll leave in like—thirty minutes. Wanna find a room to chill in?" He looks away for a second, thinking. He nods and I tighten my grip on his hand.

I weave through the crowd of dancing bodies, clutching his hand tightly so I don’t lose him. The music is piercing as I head past a speaker, the bass booming and the music flooding my brain. I throw a hand over my ears, looking back to see how Beomseok was fairing.

He winces as we pass by the speaker and I try to yell over the music. "Cover your ears." I motion to my ears with my free hand and he covers the one closest to the speaker as I continue pulling him along.

Fuck, it's suffocating like a maze in here.

Whose house even is this?

I can barley think with the music blasting, making every other noise impossibly quiet.

I lead him to a staircase where people are sitting on every other stair, making out and practically fucking. I pull him along and up the stairs, yelling apologies over the music.

I make it upstairs with Beomseok while attempting to shove past the people crowding the halls. The stench of alcohol hangs thick in the air, making my nose scrunch. I head right to the first door I see, which is at the end of the crowded hall. I push past people, pulling Beomseok into the unlocked room and shutting the door.

From what I can see in the lowlight of the moon, there's a large bed with a canopy in the center of the room, inviting me over. The music is almost muffled in this room, and I sigh in relief, thankful to not have to yell anymore.

I let go of his hand, flopping onto the bed. "I'm so damn tired."

It's quiet for a moment save for the muffled music downstairs and I realize Beomseok is still standing by the door as I sit up, propping my elbows on the bed. I look him up and down, drinking up his flushed state.

He’s wearing a buttoned-up cardigan, soft and slightly oversized, with dark dress pants that hang just loose enough to bunch around his ankles. His black suede shoes are perfectly lined up, his hands clasped behind him like a nervous schoolboy.

His head is bowed, hair falling into his face, the faintest flush creeping up his neck and I can just barely see the smooth skin of his chest through the V of the cardigan.

Looks like he's not wearing anything underneath.

He looks so cute like this.

"Come here baby, no need to be nervous." I pat the spot on the bed next to me and he looks up, pushing his glasses onto his face. He saunters over with no hesitation. He perches on the far edge of the bed, his gaze drifting everywhere but in my direction.

"Why sit so far?" I fully sit up now, getting off the bed. I plop myself next to him, scooting myself impossibly close to him. His thigh touches mine. So does his arm. He gulps, Adams apple bobbing with the movement.

"I don't bite," I scoot that much closer, bringing my voice to barley above a whisper.

"Unless you like that."

I can see how the words effected him as soon as he shivers, scanning the room and avoiding my eyes like I'd turn him to stone.

"I do—I mean I, I just haven't you know—" He stumbles over his words, and I nod, placing a comforting hand over his.

"I know, do you want to try?" He looks at me then, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah—I'd like that." He grabs my hand then, rubbing a comforting hand over my own. It's something he does to calm himself I've noticed. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "We can start off slow if you'd like." He nods, a soft smile growing on his face.

"It's okay to be nervous baby, if at any point you wanna stop or slow down promise to let me know?" I bring a hand up to his face, gently turning him to face me. He looks at me with hooded eyes, gentle tufts of breath hitting my face.

"I promise." He blinks. He takes these things so seriously and it really warms my heart.

He looks sort of dazed and a couple beats of silence pass as I drink him in.

"You're so beautiful." He sighs, gaze lingering on my lips. I softly laugh. The air suddenly feels heavier with something else now as we both go quiet. I lean in closer and his breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. I brush a piece of hair from his eyes, placing a soft peck to his lips.

His breath fans against my lips, hot and shakily like he can't bare to look at what's coming next.

I smile, thinking about just how long it took to get him to this point. When we first started dating he was so shy, hesitant to kiss or even hold hands. He's grown so much since we first met.

I press my lips to his and his hands crawl up my body, coming to play at the straps of my top, just thumbing with the fabric there. I cup his jaw, bringing him in all the closer as his lips part slightly.

I slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth. He tastes slightly of mint and a hint of alcohol. He grabs onto the strap of my shirt then, grabbing the fabric tightly.

Several moments pass and he whimpers into the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls deeply as I snake a hand up his sweater from the bottom, feeling the smooth skin of his chest as his heart thumps under my fingertips.

I follow the red flush of his chest through his dress shirt up to his neck where I caress the soft skin there.

What a smooth canvas to paint with bruises.

"Your hearts racing baby, do you wanna take a break or stop?" He takes a deep breath in before replying, "No, let's keep going—fuck, you're so hot." he breathes, going in for another kiss. I lean forward, slightly parting my lips. I bring my hand down from his neck to thumb at his nipple and his body jolts as he moans quietly into my mouth. I pull away, hand resting on his stomach.

"Was that okay?" I breathe, gazing at him with lidded eyes. I can feel my own heart thumping in my rib cage as I look at him.

God—he's so fucking cute.

He bites his lip, silent for a second. "I—I liked it." He looks at me with wide eyes.

"I actually can't take It you are so fucking cute Beomie," I smile, swiping a thumb over his cheek lovingly. His face is smooth save for the occasional pimple, which is understandable. He leans into the touch, and my thumb dips into his parted mouth where he takes a hesitant lick, looking into my eyes.

"For fucks sake Beomie, you're really gonna make me fuck you right here." He laughs and I feel myself smile with him, laughter overtaking me also.

"But seriously—" I pull away, hands resting at the bottom of his shirt. "Let's take this off." He nods, and I pull the fabric over his head, him pulling his arms out helpful.

His chest is flushed red, beauty marks scattered across the skin. I must've been staring for a while because he broke the silence. "Do you think I look good?" he looks away shyly, like he would curl into a ball if I said anything but yes.

"Fuck yeah, you look more than good." I smile, looking at his slightly toned chest. I look into his eyes once more, "I wanna devour you."

He shudders at the words and I stand as I shimmy my pants and panties off of me and onto the floor. "Your turn." He bites his lip, eyes scanning my body and stopping when he gets to my tits. He stands suddenly, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants off, they hit the floor noiselessly and he immediately puts his hand over his dick, the flush seemingly spreading everywhere.

It's silent save for the soft breathing of us both.

"Can I—" he pauses, lip pouting and eyebrows furrowing like he doesn't know how to phrase the sentence right. "Can I eat you out?" He says like a question, and could swear I almost came right then and there.

I bite my lip with a nod as I saunter over to him. I push his chest softly, making him hit the bed with a quiet thump. I climb on top of him, stopping when I reach his neck.

I leave a soft kiss on the reddening canvas that is his throat and his back arches slightly. I put my hand on his chest, lightly pushing him back onto the bed. "Are we okay to continue?" I peck his lips, our faces so close I can see the depth of his eye bags and the dilation of his pupils.

"Yes, more than okay, fuck—I love you." he says, pulling me into a kiss as he places his hands on the back of my head, pulling me all the closer. I smile into the kiss, pulling away and sitting up. I slide myself down his body till I'm pressed against his leaking and hard cock. "mmph—please," he moans, hands resting against the silk sheets.

"Whatever you want Seokie," I whisper, lifting myself up and reaching behind me to grab his cock and guide it into me. I hum to myself as I slowly lower myself until I'm flush with his pubic bone.

I moan lowly at the stretch as Beomseok hums, eyes fluttering shut.

I catch my bottom lip between my top teeth as I begin to move, hands glued to his chest and I slowly grind against him. "Fuck," he moans, hands clenching and unclenching the sheets.

I grab his sweaty, slender hands and place them onto my waist as I lower myself onto his chest, lips flush with his perky nipples. I circle the skin there, leaving open mouthed kisses on his flushed skin.

His head lols to the right limply like his bones were made of jelly. I began to suck on his chest, leaving behind dark purple marks as his back arched into me, drawn tightly like a bow and arrow.

He whimpers as I suck dark marks into his skin and I know full and well he's gonna feel these tomorrow.

Is it already tomorrow? Shit, what time is it?

I feel like I'm getting lost in the feeling of him, him stretching my walls so perfectly and the quiet and drawn out moans of my name into the air.

He sounds heavenly like this and my chest warms at the thought. He whines my name, moaning when I clench around him. My hands fly to his neck, bringing him all the closer as I begin to whisper.

"You're doing so well baby," I kiss his bruised chest once again as I bring a hand up to his hair. He moans as I tug slightly, back falling onto the bed.

I begin riding him seriously now, the sudden change in pace making him grip my waist harshly and I groan at the thought of the bruises I'll be dealing with tomorrow. I can feel myself getting closer as I pant, fully intending on milking him of everything he had and more.

"Shit—m' gonna come," he groans, panting as he opens his eyes.

Our eyes meet as I grind harshly onto him, his hips bucking into me sporadically. "Fuck Beomseok—" I clench around him once more as the knot in my stomach snaps. "Come with me, now." The hand in his hair comes down to the flushed skin of his neck, tightening slightly.

His brown eyes roll back into his skull as he moans louder than he has all night and I feel the warmth pumping into me as he jolts and shudders, hips stuttering as he empties himself into me.

His back hits the bed with a thump and he lays still, shuddering occasionally through the aftershocks as he pants.

His eyes flutter shut and he looks almost sleepy as he looks up at me with dazed eyes.

"Was that good?" I pant, sitting up and resting my hand against his chest.

He throws a hand over his eyes and I can see the slow smile spreading across his face.

"It was more than good, I've never—"

At that very moment, the door flies open over the noise of panting. Suho is standing there, mid sentence before he stops. "Have you guys seen—" His eyes widen, jaw going slack as he takes in the scene before him.

"Holy shit—"

—

if you enjoyed, consider liking, reblogging, commenting, sharing or sending in your own ask:p

this is so unlike me fr next smut im putting it in his ahh fr guys trust!!

[charliemwrites]

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

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Masterlist

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

cw: +18 mdni, Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[5source]

✰─ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 - quotes

quotes taken from the movie 𝙹𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙵𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈 (𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟿). feel free to change anything to your liking !! cw: cursing, sex, violence

-- " hell is a teenage girl. " -- " i wasn't always this cracked. " -- " god, i hate this fucking song. " -- " you and me are going out tonight. " -- " the lead singers extra salty. " -- " it's a rock show. this is my rock look. " -- " it smells like thai food in here. have you guys been fucking? " -- " you're just jello cause you're not invited. " -- " are you uh- are you gonna cuff me? " -- " can i buy you a drink? " -- " i'll just play hello titty with the bartender. " -- " i think the lead singer wants me. " -- " what? i'm not even a back door virgin anymore. " -- " do you want me to come over or something? " -- " maybe i'm going crazy. " -- " are you scared? " -- " sucks to be them, i guess? " -- " please don't talk to yourself. it's one of your more freakish behaviors. " -- " ew fuck. you need a mani bad. " -- " i feel guilty just breathing. " -- " i don't tell whoppers, and i'm not crazy. " -- " i didn't say you were crazy. " -- " well, i'm glad you didn't die. seriously. " -- " i'm not all obvious about it like a poser. " -- " i'm crazy sorry about your profound loss. " -- " you're so warm. why are you so warm? " -- " oh god. i had another one of my night terrors. " -- " i can take care of myself. " -- " i feel so scrumptious! " -- " move on dot org. it's over! " -- " you know, i tell it like it is. " -- " i'm having the best day since like, jesus invited the calendar. " -- " boo. i'm crossing you out. " -- " i am a god. " -- " you know, (blank) is looking really cute to me lately. " -- " so tell me, is he like packing some serious pubic inches? " -- " why are the cops at your house? " -- " we were fucking idiots. " -- " no offense, but you like, really tired. " -- " you wanna know if i'll go out with you? " -- " just go ahead with the pitch. " -- " i don't like boxing movies. " -- " my dick is bigger than his. " -- " so, are you gonna come over tonight? " -- " you give me such a wetty. " -- " i thought boys like you were really into vermin and death and shit. " -- " i need you frightened. " -- " i need you hopeless. " -- " enough with the screaming! you're such a cliché! " -- " i'm not gonna bite you. " -- " what the fuck is happening?! " -- " you don't have to talk if you don't want to. " -- " i've never even done sex. i don't know how. " -- " satan is our only hope. " -- " it should have killed me, but for some reason.. it didn't. " -- " i couldn't bring myself to hurt you. " -- " why were you covered in blood? " -- " what's going on? you're breaking up with me? " -- " you're acting really fucked up. " -- " oh my god. you don't believe me. " -- " i just can't believe she would mess with your head like this. " -- " why don't you just come here and kiss me again? " -- " she's just hovering. it's not that impressive. " -- " god, do you have to undermine everything that i do? " -- " you are such a player-hater. " -- " you were never a good friend. " -- " and now i'm eating your boyfriend. " -- " how could I ever be insecure? I was the snowflake queen. " -- " i am going to eat your soul and SHIT IT OUT! " -- " i thought you only murdered boys? " -- " i go both ways. " -- " do you buy all your murder weapons are home depot? " -- " you just might get lucky for once in your miserable life. "

[sesmiq]

"do you really wanna die as a virgin, boy?"

Haruto Shimizu (oc) x switch ? incubus male reader

warning: blood mentioned, subby top!1!1, blowjob, boobjob, not proofread,, short

not finished 😔,, listened to will stetson's rabbit hole cover and had this idea but after i wrote the boobjob scene my mind went blank 🧠💣💥

Haruto knew this probably wasn't the best idea.

He had tried doing this countless times before and failed, but who knows he's gonna succeed this time?

..summoning a demon by himself isn't the smartest thing to do, too bad cause he’s gonna do it anyways. (yolo)

Standing in the center of the magic circle he had painted in blood (pig’s blood, he was too much of a pussy to use human blood.), he carefully lit up the candles around the bloody circle.

Opening the magic book he borrowed from the library, Haruto began to chant words in another language. Once he was done, he looked up from his book to see.. nothing.

Safe to say he was disappointed but not surprised, sighing in defeat, he got out of the circle to start cleaning up,,

Suddenly, a gust of wind forcefully opened the window and entered the room blowing out the candle, the room became surrounded with pink mist.

He put an arm in front of his face, backing up from the center of the room. The mist was too thick for him to see, but he's able to make out a dark silhouette of a.. human?

with horns and tails, that is.

“How desperate are you for you to use blood this time?” a deep alluring and sweet voice said, startling Haruto. 

Walking out of the mist reveals you, with dark red horns and tail, wearing clothes that look like they came from Japan edo era.

“d-demon?” Haruto stuttered, you grinned at this and walked closer to him.

“mm.. close.” you successfully trapped him against the wall, towering over the trembling boy.

“I didn't think that it would work..” he muttered, looking up at you in fear.

“mm.. by the look of you, you want something don't you? Perhaps a contract?” you asked.

“huh?” 

“People summon incubus for a reason. so, what do you want?” you ask once again, walking away from Haruto to look around the room. slightly cringing when you see a bucket of blood in the corner of the room

“i-i don't want anything.. wait— did you just say incubus-” poor guy didn't get to finish his sentence before getting cut off by you,

“sex? or something just to please yourself? c’mon, it gotta be something.. don't tell me you summoned me for nothing.” you huffed.

“w-well.. u-um.. I was just.. curious..?”

you looked at Haruto with a blank face, as if you’re saying ‘you're joking, right?’

you saw how Haruto fiddled with his fingers and looked down at the floor, letting out a sigh, you snapped your fingers to grab his attention.

“Well, I suppose there's nothing you’d like. so, I'll go back. bye.”

right before you could summon a portal to go back where you come from, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and mumbled out something,

“yousaidyouwereaincubuscanyoupleasetakemyvirginity”

“what?”

he looks up at you, eyes filled with determination and repeated his words, louder this time.

“please take my virginity!”

“fine.”

so you agreed, thinking this is just another case of ‘pls let me hit plsplsspls im bitchless since birth’

you pushed him down the bed, straddling his waist and marking his jaw and neck while pulling down his pants along with his underwear, slowly stroking his manhood to life.

..for someone small and shy as Haruto, he definitely is packing, you grinned. 

getting off from him, you kneel down to face his dripping cock, softly sucking on the tip while toying with the remainder of the length before taking it all the way to the hilt. you hummed after hearing the other whine, you looks up for the human’s reaction.

Haruto stares at you, his face slightly red and is letting out a few groans and whines, trying his best not to buckle his hips into your mouth.

how cute. you thought to yourself.

deciding to tease him more, you pull off from his cock with a pop, he let out a confused whine at your action,

“hhah what are you-” haruto whined, almost getting up from the bed but was stopped by you when you slide his now wet member between your pecs (manboobs??)

his already red face turned into an even darker shade of red, eyes wide open with his jaw dropped,

“a-ah?!” he stared at his member resting on your chest, his pupils turning into swirls.. is that even possible? I thought that thing only happens in slice of life manga whenever one of the 

“go wild.” you told him, taking his tip back into your mouth, humming when you felt him thrusting his hips between your chest.

you grabbed the base of his member, tugging him into your chest like you would jerk him off.

he didn't last long, you felt him throbbing in your mouth and pulled off right before he could come into your mouth.

white sticky substances spurted out of his member, landing on your chest and some on your lips.

you grinned, swiping your lips with your finger before licking the baby batter.

“salty.”

Haruto was suspiciously quiet, you rose from your feet, crawling back onto the bed and straddling him on his waist. You lightly poked him from the side looking for a reaction.

“Human? Helloooo.. Is post nut clarity that bad for you- woah!” 

He unexpectedly wrapped his arms around you and hid his face into your chest, face clearly red and mumbling nonsense.

“please..”

“mm?” you lift his chin up, holding in your giggle when you see him drooling and tears slowly filling his eyes.

He really reminds you of a puppy.

“please.. want to be inside of you,,"

how can you say no when he's begging so nicely?

a/n me trying to find motivation so i can finish this (soon i hope),, i was stranded in the airport for 4 hours bcos my flight keep delaying and i didnt have any money ww. anyways,, lev lauv laurve

[actuallybean]

Holy Virgin* | Part Fourteen

You've shared everything with Sam but one thing—your faith. It’s never been a problem… until Heaven turns its gaze on you, and suddenly, devotion takes on a darker meaning. *Contains sexual material, pregnancy, thoughts of suicide/attempted suicide, virginity and has some religious themes: Minors DNI Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader (Platonic), Castiel x Reader (Platonic) Tag list: @mostlymarvelgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @catsinacottage Part Fifteen Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After days of silence, hushed prayers, and dread cloaking every hallway, the morning brought something that almost felt like peace. The faint gurgle of the coffee maker, the metallic scrape of forks over plates from the kitchen, the low rumble of Led Zeppelin leaking from someone’s headphones — these were the small signs of life coming back to center.

You stretched, warm under your blanket on the couch, still nestled between the comfort of old flannel and the rhythmic sound of Sam’s quiet breathing beside you. His long frame had somehow folded into the couch, and one of his arms still rested protectively across your thigh, his hand lightly curled over the swell of your belly. You smiled, fingers brushing over his knuckles. Safe. At least for now.

Eventually, you slipped out gently from under his arm, careful not to wake him. You wandered barefoot through the hallway, hoodie slung over your sleep shirt, a soft chill crawling over your legs. One hand instinctively supported your bump as you descended the steps into the war room.

Dean was already there.

He stood over the war table, eyes narrowed at a thick manila folder while sipping coffee from a mug that read ‘Best Monster Hunter In The Midwest.’ His laptop screen showed several open tabs: midwife forums, natural birthing articles, even one titled ‘How to Birth in a Barn if the World Ends.’

“You planning on becoming a doula now?” you teased.

Dean didn’t even look up. “Only if I get a cool vest and a walkie-talkie. Pretty sure that’s standard.”

You grinned, slowly stepping closer. “You know that’s not what doulas do, right?”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t have a uterus. I’m working with what I got here.”

You laughed, then perched on the edge of the war table. “Where’s Sam?”

You gestured toward the hallway. “Still out cold on the couch. I’m giving Sleeping Beauty his rest. He was up until 3AM reading about cervical dilation like it was the Da Vinci Code.”

Dean raised a brow. “Wow. That’s dedication.”

“Yeah, well,” You sighed and sat down. “This ain’t exactly a ‘wing it’ situation. No hospitals. No docs. No anesthesia. Just good old-fashioned pain and prayer.”

There was a beat of silence.

You swallowed. “You think it’s stupid that I came down here to talk baby names?”

Dean looked up, his expression softening. “No. I think it’s the most normal thing you’ve said in days.”

You hesitated, brushing your hair behind your ear. “If it’s a girl… I was thinking Mary. For your mom. If that’s okay.”

Dean blinked — just once — and something flickered behind his eyes, something sharp and fast and grateful. He cleared his throat, looking away for a second like he needed the composure.

“Yeah,” he said, voice lower. “That’d be real nice.”

“And for a boy… I haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe something strong. Biblical, but not like plague and doom biblical.”

Dean chuckled. “No Abaddons or Malachi Jr.’s?”

You rolled your eyes, hugging your hoodie a little closer around your stomach. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, okay,” came a sleepy, gravel-dragged voice from behind. “What about something classic? Like… Chris”

You turned your head to see Sam padding barefoot into the war room, hair tousled from sleep, wearing an old MIT sweatshirt and the faint imprint of the couch’s armrest pressed into his cheek. He rubbed the back of his neck and blinked at the table full of research.

Dean snorted. “Chris? Really? That’s the hill you wanna die on?”

Sam shot him a look. “It’s a solid name.”

Dean took a long sip from his mug and muttered, “Yeah, real solid… just rolls off the tongue while someone’s yelling at you.”

You laughed, grateful for the familiar rhythm of their banter. For a moment, it felt like old times — before Heaven came knocking, before prophecies and visions, before divine pregnancies and holy warnings.

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I want something meaningful, but not heavy, you know? Something that doesn’t carry too much history, but still feels strong.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What about Jesus the Second?”

Sam stopped mid-step, eyebrow arched. “You’re kidding.”

Dean grinned. “I’m just sayin’. You are the modern-day Virgin Mary. Feels like the natural progression.”

You deadpanned. “Dean. I’m not naming my kid Jesus the Second.”

“But think about it,” he pressed, dramatically gesturing to the air like he could already see the name in lights. “You’re in a Walmart, someone calls it out — the entire store partly kneels. That’s power.”

You let out a laugh so loud it echoed off the war room walls. Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a grin tugging at his lips as he came to sit beside you on the edge of the table.

“Don’t encourage him,” Sam said as he gently bumped your knee with his.

Dean raised both hands. “Hey, I’m just brainstorming here. You don’t like Jesus the Second, we can always fall back on something classy. Like Chad.”

You groaned. “Please no. I’d rather name the baby Lucifer before I name him Chad.”

Sam chuckled. “That’s fair.”

There was a lull — a warm, thoughtful silence.

Sam gently placed a hand over your bump, just as Dean had done last night. His palm was large and careful, as though he could feel every flutter beneath the surface.

“You feeling okay this morning?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… needed to see you guys. Needed to laugh a little. Things felt normal again, for a second.”

Sam offered a faint, hopeful smile. “We can still have that… as much of it as we’re allowed.”

Your heart softened. You reached for him, brushing your fingers gently against his cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips — soft, brief, but full of warmth.

Dean stood and reached across the table for a notebook, flipping to a half-scribbled page. “Okay, what if we made an actual list? We got time. We workshop it like a movie script. Something with gravitas.”

You grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Something that sounds good when you yell it across a playground or whisper it during a prayer.”

Dean raised his mug like a toast. “To the future badass, whatever their name ends up being.”

Sam added, “And to you. For still being able to laugh through this.”

You smiled at them both — your family, your protection, your anchors — and felt something shift inside you. Something not divine, not holy or prophesied. Just simple, grounded hope.

Then — the room began to shimmer.

Not physically — not in light — but in pressure. Like the air had suddenly thickened. The blood drained from your face before you could even process it.

Sam noticed first. “Hey—hey, are you okay?”

Your lips parted, but the sentence never came.

Your head jerked back. Eyes wide — and then rolling white.

Sam lunged forward just in time to catch you as your knees gave out.

“Shit—SAM!” Dean shouted. “She’s seizing!”

Sam caught your head, gently cradling it, panic flashing across his face. “She’s not shaking—she’s stiff. It’s a vision. She’s having another vision!”

Dean’s voice dropped to a raw whisper. “Goddammit. Come on, sweetheart. Breathe!”

✦

The world came in pieces. Disjointed. Blinding.

Blood. Heat. Your own scream ripping through the air like thunder.

You were in labor — that much was clear. Harsh white light burned your eyes as your legs trembled, braced and pulled back by steady hands. The room swam in sweat and panic, thick with urgency.

Sam’s voice pierced the haze — desperate, breaking, somewhere close. Dean was shouting, but you couldn’t tell if it was at you, at God, or just into the chaos.

You couldn’t see the baby. Not yet.

But you saw yourself — hunched forward, spine curved like a bow drawn to its limit, your face ghost-pale and drenched in effort. There was blood. A terrifying amount of it, dark and slick and spreading fast between your thighs. You gripped the sheets, soaked and clinging, as if they were the only thing anchoring you to life.

A baby cried — high, alive, echoing somewhere just out of reach.

But before your eyes could find them, before your arms could reach, your vision blurred. Your breath caught. You watched yourself collapse back against the mattress, still breathing — but barely. Still here — but only just.

And then, like a pane of glass cracking from within, the light shattered — and the vision was gone.

✦

Your body seized once—an uncontrollable jolt that shot down your spine like a current—and then everything went limp.

The world dropped out beneath you.

You collapsed fully into Sam’s arms, boneless and trembling. His warmth surrounded you instantly, strong arms pulling you tight against his chest as your body shuddered and your lungs fought for air.

“Hey—hey,” Sam breathed urgently, holding you like something fragile. “You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”

Your eyes fluttered open, but they didn’t register much at first—just shapes, shadows, the golden ring of the war room lights spinning above you like halos.

Then Dean’s face came into focus, hovering just over Sam’s shoulder. His eyes were wide with panic, jaw clenched, trying not to look as scared as he felt.

“You with us?” he asked, voice rough, grounding. “C’mon, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Your lips parted on a ragged, gasping breath. “I… I think so.”

Sam exhaled with visible relief, adjusting his grip so you were cradled closer against him, one hand curled behind your head, the other rubbing gentle circles into your lower back.

Dean stayed kneeling beside him, tense and ready. “What was that?”

Your eyes darted between them. Your voice came out cracked, hoarse like it had been scraped raw from the inside. “I think I had a vision... I saw the birth. But this time…”

Your stomach lurched. You tried to sit up but Sam anchored you carefully, his large hands warm against your ribs. “Take it slow,” he murmured.

You blinked up at them, dazed. “This time… I felt it. The pain. All of it.”

A beat passed.

Dean’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “But you made it, right? Like—like in the vision? You’re okay in the end?”

You hesitated. The silence stretched too long. The edges of your fingers tingled from leftover shock. Your heart thundered like it had been chasing something holy and horrible at once.

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered, trembling. “There was so much blood…”

Dean’s mouth opened, then shut again. He looked at Sam, who didn’t say anything—just held you closer, like he could protect you from a prophecy with sheer will.

Dean finally spoke again, his voice tighter this time. “You’re not gonna die, alright? Mary didn’t die, so why would God change that now? Huh?”

His words felt like a question aimed more at Heaven than at you. Like he was praying someone—anyone—was still listening.

Sam let out a breath through his nose, and when you looked up at him, he gave you the smallest, softest smile.

“You’re here,” he said simply. “That’s what matters right now.”

He shifted your weight slightly so your legs weren’t folded uncomfortably beneath you. You realized only then how badly you were shaking. Your knees felt like water, your hands cold and useless against the heat of Sam’s chest.

His fingers found your side and moved in slow, grounding strokes—up, down, up again—anchoring you to the present, to him.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated. His lips brushed your hair. “I’ll always have you.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder. His flannel was soft, and it smelled like cedar and safety. For a moment, you just breathed—his heartbeat thudding steady beneath your ear, his hand never still against your side.

But Dean was still watching.

You lifted your eyes to him, quietly wrecked.

“There was a moment… when I thought I was going to die. Not from fear. From purpose. Like I wasn’t meant to survive it.”

Dean’s face twisted, like your words physically hurt him. “Don’t talk like that. You hear me?”

“I saw it, Dean,” you whispered. “I felt the crown of thorns. I felt… fire and light and pain like nothing human.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. His hand paused for a moment, then resumed.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said, almost fierce. “I don’t care what God showed you. You are not doing this alone.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Not when the ghost of divine agony still echoed in your womb, your lungs, your soul.

But you held on to him—held on—and closed your eyes against the memory.

And for now, that was enough.

✦

The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and old coffee — familiar, homey, but also tinged with the faint, ever-present undercurrent of bunker life: exhaustion, battles fought, prayers whispered in the dark. The morning light filtered through the narrow, barred window, casting long, golden shafts that stretched lazily across the worn linoleum floor and pooled on the kitchen table where you sat.

You were wrapped in one of Sam’s oversized flannel shirts — soft and worn just like you liked — and your favorite leggings, stretched thin in places but still the only things that felt comfortable against your growing belly. Four months along now, and the weight of this new life was becoming more real with every passing day. You traced the curve of your stomach with a gentle hand, feeling the baby’s quiet movements beneath the fabric, a faint flutter that made your chest tighten with equal parts awe and nervousness.

Beside you sat a chipped ceramic mug, stained with the ghosts of a hundred early mornings. Steam rose in delicate curls from the lukewarm tea inside, but you weren’t really drinking it — more holding it like a lifeline, warming your hands against the coolness of the bunker’s still air. The warmth seeped slowly, a quiet comfort on a day that felt both ordinary and extraordinary.

In front of you rested the battered, well-loved baby names notepad — your little project, your secret notebook of hopes and dreams inked in the margins of your life. Its pages were creased from folding and unfolding, smudged with grease from late-night snacks and fingerprints from endless brainstorming sessions.

The notepad was a patchwork of your and Dean’s scribbles, a mixture of the ridiculous and the sincere. There were names scrawled in Dean’s unmistakable bold, all-caps handwriting — names like “JESUS THE SECOND” that had been heavily crossed out with dramatic, angry lines of ink, and a frowny face doodled beside them, almost certainly Sam’s doing. Another of Dean’s ideas, “WINCHESTERELLA,” was similarly obliterated beneath your own impatient, frustrated scribbles. And there, mocking the seriousness of the page, was “BABY YODA,” again in Dean’s handwriting, followed by your emphatic “NO.”

The absurdity of it all made you smile despite the heaviness that hung in your chest. Dean’s attempts at humor — trying to lighten the burden of what was coming — reminded you that no matter how strange and terrifying this journey was, you weren’t walking it alone.

But beneath the layers of crossed-out jokes and silly nicknames, real contenders had begun to emerge. Names you’d carefully collected from ancient scriptures, forgotten saints, prophets, and angelic tongues whispered only in the most secret scrolls of Heaven. Some were circled with hopeful certainty, others lightly erased as second thoughts crept in, but the last two names you’d written remained clear, crisp, and untouched by doubt — the ink darker than the rest, written in your softest cursive.

For a girl: Zahaviah.

The name felt like a secret treasure you’d discovered tucked deep in the pages of a dusty, forgotten biblical lexicon hidden in the bunker’s library. Delicate and rare, it was Hebrew in origin, meaning “golden one of the Lord.” The syllables rolled off your tongue gently, like a prayer and a promise all at once. It felt holy and fierce, a name fit for a child born into battle but kissed by divine light — someone who would carry the fire of faith with a quiet strength.

For a boy: Eliorin.

This name was far more obscure, whispered only in the footnotes of ancient angelic hierarchies and old, secret texts. Derived from El, meaning God, and or, meaning light, the poetic suffix gave it an almost ethereal softness. Light of God. It didn’t carry the weight of judgment or the threat of fire, but rather hope — a beacon shining steadily through the shadows. It was a name that sounded like a promise of peace and protection in a world that desperately needed both.

You stared down at the names for a long moment, your thumb tracing the corner of the page absentmindedly. Beneath the flannel, your belly shifted softly, the baby moving — stretching or kicking, or maybe just reminding you, quietly but insistently, that you were not alone. That life was growing here, fragile but fierce.

Somewhere down the hall, faint music drifted in — Sam’s voice humming along to an old classic from the library where he was probably buried nose-deep in another ancient tome, researching everything he could to keep you safe. Dean was likely elbow-deep in the garage, working on some ridiculous project or trying to figure out how to deliver a baby with nothing but duct tape and a first-aid kit. You could almost hear him muttering under his breath about ‘winging it’ and ‘doing this the Winchester way.’

But here, in this quiet, golden morning light — with just the scratch of pen on paper, the faint warmth of tea, and the gentle rhythm of a new life inside you — something like peace settled over you. It wasn’t the peace of certainty or safety; it was the peace of love, fragile and fierce, anchoring you against the fear.

You picked up the pen again and wrote beneath the names with careful, deliberate strokes:

“Let them be born into love, not fear.”

Your eyes flicked to the margin next to “JESUS THE SECOND,” where you doodled a tiny, mischievous halo. You knew Dean would see it later, probably laugh until he nearly choked on his coffee. For now, that small moment of levity was enough — a reminder that even in the darkest times, laughter was still a kind of salvation.

You sighed softly, setting the pen down, and laid a hand gently over your belly. No matter what came next, you’d face it — with hope, with love, and with family by your side.

✦

The warmth of the kitchen lingered even as the day wore on, but eventually, the pull of routine—or at least the closest thing to it—guided you toward the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom.

You stood for a moment in the doorway, blinking slowly at the fogged-up mirror and the faint scent of eucalyptus from Sam’s body wash. The overhead light hummed softly above you. Your body felt heavier lately, slower, like it was moving to a rhythm only the baby understood. You were beginning to learn the language of discomfort—how to arch your back just right to ease the ache in your spine, how to breathe through the pressure in your hips, how to hold your belly like it needed reassurance even when you were alone.zz

The mirror was already fogged around the edges, but the middle strip still held a reflection — soft, watery, real.

You stood in front of it barefoot, slowly peeling off the oversized flannel shirt you’d stolen from Dean’s closet again that morning. The cotton fell from your shoulders like a curtain, pooling at your feet beside your leggings and underwear, folded with care on the closed toilet lid. The hum of the bathroom light above you was the only sound, along with the slow start of water heating behind the glass pane of the shower.

You looked at yourself.

Really looked.

Four months. It was undeniable now. Your body wasn’t what it had been before. Your waist, once soft and unremarkable, had given way to a gentle curve pushing outward — your belly round and firm like the moon. A subtle line now bisected the skin from ribs to hips, that faint linea nigra marking the quiet miracle underneath. Your breasts were fuller, heavier, nipples darker than you remembered. The skin stretched across your stomach was taut and warm, sensitive to the touch, like it belonged to someone else and only recently returned to you.

Your hips had widened too, and your thighs touched just a little more, your balance just a little off-center. There were tiny, half-moon indents on your lower belly where your nails had unknowingly pressed in recent nights, holding yourself as you dreamed of things too big to say aloud. Sometimes you felt beautiful. Other times foreign. Like a home being renovated while still living in it.

You exhaled softly, resting a hand on the side of your stomach. The baby shifted — not quite a kick, not yet, but a whisper of motion that reminded you they were there. Growing. Becoming.

You turned sideways, cupping your belly from underneath, watching the gentle silhouette of creation. You didn’t feel like a goddess, but you understood why people once believed women who gave birth held divinity in their blood. Because even now, even after everything — the fear, the danger, the impossible story you were living — this felt sacred.

Steam curled around you as the shower reached its rhythm. You stepped inside, letting the warmth spill over your shoulders, your back, sliding down your skin in ribbons. The water clung to your lashes, kissed your collarbones, filled the air with that comforting sound of safety. You pressed your palms to the cool tile and just stood there for a while, letting yourself feel everything and nothing at once.

You didn’t hear the door open.

But you knew him.

Sam’s voice came gently above the rush of water, quiet enough that you had to turn your head toward the sound. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You blinked the steam from your eyes, and he was there — bare-chested, barefoot, loose pajama pants riding low on his hips, hair a little damp already from where he’d run his fingers through it. His eyes were gentle, almost shy, his hands fidgeting slightly by his sides like he wasn’t sure you’d want him there.

“Come in,” you said, smiling softly.

Sam entered like the air itself bowed to his frame. He stepped in, slow and careful, reaching out to slide the glass door shut behind him, enclosing the two of you in mist and warmth. You felt his body heat mingle with the shower’s. Felt his hesitation melt the moment he saw you — all of you — and did not flinch.

His hands, large and warm, rose to rest lightly on your sides. Then, without asking, he lowered them, palms spreading gently across the curve of your belly, reverent and slow. His touch wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was sacred.

“They’ve grown,” he whispered.

You smiled, a little laugh in your throat. “So have I.”

He glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you as if taking stock of every inch of your changed form. “You’re beautiful,” he said. And he meant it — every syllable.

“You have to say that,” you teased.

“I don’t,” he said. “But I do anyway.”

His thumbs brushed delicate circles across the roundest part of your belly. Your skin quivered under the touch, and you felt the baby move faintly again — not a kick, just a hello.

Sam dropped his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed. The water streamed over both of you, clinging to his shoulders, running down your spine. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love this baby. I love this—us.”

You rested your head on his chest, your hand over his heart. “Do you think it’ll ever stop being terrifying?”

“I hope not,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “Because if it stops being terrifying, it means we stopped caring.”

There was a silence — soft, comforting. Then, almost too casually, Sam added, “So… I was thinking. You know. When this is all over. When you’re not glowing like the Virgin Mary and terrifying Heaven on a daily basis…”

You raised an eyebrow.

“…maybe you’d wanna marry me?” he said.

Just like that.

No ring. No kneeling. No plan. Just Sam Winchester, half-naked in a shower, hands on your belly, offering his forever like it was the most obvious next step.

You blinked.

He cringed a little. “Okay, okay — that sounded better in my head.”

You started to laugh. You couldn’t help it. “You asked me to marry you in the shower. While I’m huge. And naked.”

“And glowing,” he offered.

You rolled your eyes and pulled him down into a kiss — slow, full, grateful. It wasn’t passionate. It wasn’t hurried. It was quiet and clean and lovely.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against his again. “Yes.”

He froze.

“Yes?” he repeated, like he hadn’t heard right.

You nodded, and this time tears swam in both your eyes.

“I’ll say it again when we’re dry and you’re not worried about soap in your eyes,” you teased. “But yeah. Yes.”

And in the warmth of that small bunker shower, under the water and hope and steam, Sam kissed you again. His hands stayed over your stomach the entire time. And the baby moved, ever so slightly, like they knew — like they understood that love was being built all around them.

[trickstarbrave]

If you really want some, if you're feeling lonely Baby, get lucky (Baby, get lucky) Hated to love, but it only gave me life Are you really gonna die like a virgin, boy?

a good portion of this was done with both the flu and a kidney infection i dont wanna hear complaints abt mistakes i just needed nerevar to cure me (and i do feel better. coincidence? i think not)

[thatblvckboyy]

Sunghoon x male reader

A perfect sacrifice

I'm gonna finish this dw

You were lying on a cold, stone altar. The air is heavy with the smell of sulfur, and the dim light of torches casts shadows on the walls.surrounded by people but you couldn't tell how many cause your vision was blury. How exactly did you get there?? You don't know the last thing you remember was someone hiting you on the head

You try to move, but you can't. Your arms and legs are bound,The pain continues to grow, and you feel the warm blood leaking from your body you try to scream, but no sound comes out.You feel your life slipping away with every drop of blood. Then you feel something warm on your hand, it feels like someone's hand but who is it??

"Hey.... Hey everything is gonna be okay just hold on" This voice it's so soft and sounds familiar, you thought to yourself "s-sunghoon is that you? " you manage to stutter out "p-lease help me I can't take it, I'm gonna die" you please your tone barely a whisper

"No your not gonna die just hold on ,after this we're gonna be together forever trust me baby boy" he said as was holding your hand trying his best to calm you.sunghoon as a vampire most of his life and when you started dating he wanted to tell you but couldn't.He was told to find someone who has an Innocent soul and a virgin and honestly your were what he had left.

You heard people chanting and it got louder and when the moment of truth came you saw something that had the body of a man,and head of goat making his way to where you were and heart raced with fear "s-s-sunghoon pleaaase I wanna go home" tears trickled down your face as you watched the creature making his way to where you were

Sunghoon held your hand tighter this time" I know baby boy just close your eyes don't look"he knew exactly what type of fear you were in and couldn't do anything. The creature was in front of you hoovering above you it's hands lingering on your face tracing lines on every bit "ohh what a perfect sacrifice even an Innocent face all the better you really out did yourself boy" the creature said it's voice enough to send chills down your spine

A man the gave the creature a glass of your blood to drink and the other folloets watched as they awaites for its approval, "ahh the taste of pure innocence" the creature growled

[hyunsvngs]

JUNO BABY LOVE. i see your "losing your virginity to skz" AND I NEED YOUR 🧅 ON THE BOYS. I seen you made han and jeongins virgins as well🥴

But what are the boys like if THEY lose it to YOU. The concept is so🤤.

I am the shrek to your 🧅's babe

hello. sorry this has been rotting in my inbox but also creds to miss ems aka @cbini aka my wife bc we had an in depth discord conversation deciding what this would be like

jeongin & jisung are here!!

chan: virgin big dick chan. virgin big dick chan who's so freaking excited to finally lose his virginity!! he's always so busy and so stressed that he has become well acquainted with his hand, and now he has this insanely pretty girlfriend. you've told him you're ready when he's ready, that there's no rush, you can take it slow.

chan decides fuck taking it slow when you're laying on his bed, sexy body illuminated in purple from his led lights and your pussy glistening even in the low lighting that he's set. he's only kissed you, but now you've got him wondering - do you get this wet every time you kiss? have you been teasing yourself just to make sure he's ready? the thought has him hardening even further in his boxer briefs, and he finally yanks them down, heavy cock hanging thick between toned thighs. you giggle, eyes focusing between his legs.

"oh, channie. you're big," you coo, hand wrapping around his shaft. the tight ring you form makes him groan, his plush lips parting as he just lets you. "is that good? my pussy's tighter, y'know."

"don't," chan gasps, his hips canting into your hand. you smile again, hand speeding up on his cock. "don't- don't tell me that, jesus christ. i need- please, can i? god, you're fuckin' insane-"

you let your hand fall from his cock, dainty and soft. your hands are so soft that his mind feels fuzzy from the few movements you gave him. you move upwards on your forearms, tits jiggling on your chest. chan wants to press his face in between them even if he can't breathe.

it's when you move your legs, feet planted either side of your hips and pussy fully exposed to him that he finally springs into action. "can i? can i, can i? baby, i'm really fuckin' hard, i need to- need to finally feel it. finally."

"of course, channie," you murmur, pulling him in by his broad shoulders. the movement has his chest pressing against yours, toned chest against your sensitive pebbled nipples and you sigh in bliss. chan looks like he's about to die, eyes blown wide and heavy pants falling from his lips. his cockhead is right against your hole, not quite breaching but very present. "d'ya wanna push in now? i'm wet enough."

chan nods, huffing, and then he's pushing in. his cockhead is thick, flared mushroom head pressing past the tightness of your hole and he gasps with the feeling around his cock. it makes him jolt, thighs clenching and unclenching on top of you, and before he can process it, he's moving. his hips are fluid against yours from years of dance practice, and you see his eyes roll back into his head.

you simper with the feeling, his cock massive and weighty inside of you. it feels so good, but - you count one, two, three full thrusts, and then his hips stop moving. his fingertips dig into your waist, and he's gasping before letting out a deep groan, eyes fluttering shut. oh.

"baby, did you cum?" you smile, running your hands through his messy hair. he huffs in disapproval, head drooping to rub his nose against the crook of your neck. "awh, that's okay, baby. we can do it again later, yeah? did you have fun?"

he hums, scratching the back of his neck. you can feel how bad his cheeks are blushing on your skin. "i am so fucking embarrassed."

(he's still thinking about it five years later when you're married with kids by the way!! he rocks your world every night at that point, but he still scratches his neck and blushes awkwardly everytime he thinks about filling you up so quickly.)

minho: he always kisses you so passionately. he's fucking insane, you realise, this virgin boy who should be blushing and embarrassed from the way his hips grind sinuously into your throbbing core. he should be nervous, but he smirks down at you with his eyes half-lidded every single time you whimper for him.

"is that good?" he murmurs, and you can hear his voice dripping in faux sympathy. "let me fuck you, then. it'll feel better, yeah?"

the gusset of your panties is positively dripping, no doubt marking minho's tight, too-expensive boxers with your slick. you whine, canting your hips up against him. he's hard. he's hard, and you can feel it - thick, long, everything you could've ever wanted. you just don't want to rush him.

you're babbling before you can even stop it, as if he doesn't have you naked from the waist up in his bed. with the boys in the other room, nonetheless. "minho, minho, are you sure? i-"

"let me get my cock in you, pretty," he leans down, bunny teeth nipping your ear. "i think i have a natural talent, y'know. all that dancing, i think i can fuck you just right even though i've never done it. what do you think?"

he punctuates his words with another few thrusts into your core, and you gasp, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. he's shirtless too, planes of milky skin stretched tight across dancer's muscles. he's so yummy. "i want it," you whine, nodding. "i want it, i want it. are you ready? are you?"

you find out that yes, he really is ready, especially when he strips you both of your underwear and finally, finally pushes inside. it pisses you off that he doesn't even react, fully calm and collected despite you writhing and squirming beneath him. he really does have a natural talent, you decide. the slide is so smooth, your pussy so slick and consistently gushing around his cock.

"so wet for me," he mumbles, one thumb coming to rub over your clit. it makes you whimper, eyes watering at the overstimulation. his resolve is faltering, you realise, his eyes struggling to stay open and his teeth biting into his plush lower lip. "i need you to cum, kitty. need you to cum for me, okay? i can't hold on much longer, you're- kitty cat, remember it's my first time, 'kay?"

"so confident before," you huff, but you let him bring you to the edge anyway. he giggles, biting your earlobe again.

"that's before you got so fuckin' wet for me, minx. c'mon, feel my cock and cum."

changbin: definitely climbs through your window trying to be all sexy and mysterious at like 2am. he woke up with a start, and then decided that tonight he was going to fuck you. or try to, at least. he knew you'd had sex before him, knew you were waiting for him to be ready, and coming through your window just seemed like a great fucking idea at the start.

he rolled through onto the windowsill and landed on the floor with a thud. he only looks at you, where you're still awake and shoving crisps into your mouth except now staring at him with wide eyes. he puts a hand on his hip, quirking an eyebrow. "was that sexy?"

"no," you answer honestly. "you want some crisps?" changbin nods and clambers onto your bed, but it's only after a few mouthfuls does he propose the idea to you.

he wants you on top, he says, letting you decide the pace. "you can jump off when i'm gonna cum, y'know," he mumbles. he's nervous, still doing that cute little downturned smile but he's blushing. "if i'm on top, i think i'll just cum inside."

"makes sense," you hum, and then you're sinking down onto him. he's thick, short in length but girthy enough that it makes you whine out desperately. it feels good. he's perfectly sized for you, and his broad hands go to your hips almost immediately. his biceps are tensing, jaw dropped in a silent moan.

"jesus, is this- does it feel this good every time?" he whines, and you hear his feet thudding against the mattress as he thrashes around. you giggle, starting to rock your hips against his, but his hands grip you even tighter. you might have bruises afterwards. you want to have bruises afterwards. "i can't. i can't, don't move, i'll cum!"

you soothe him with a hand over his pec, thumb brushing over his nipple. it unfortunately makes him buck his hips with an even louder noise. "binnie, it's really okay if you cum. it's your first time."

"hnnfmg," he manages, head falling back against your pillows. his hands go to your ass, and before he can even process what he's doing, he's thrusting up into you. the movement makes you gasp, jolting forward with your hands over both of his pecs, fleshy and delicious where your fingers dig into him. "ah, ah, ah. binnie's pussy now, okay? it's mine, please, let it be mine. it's so fuckin' good, so wet, jesus-"

"yours," you whine, nodding. "all yours, all yours. forever. i love you, binnie, i love you so much."

this makes him let out a garbled, choked out noise, and then he's tapping your ass frantically. you jump off of him like you said you would, thighs splayed over his, and watch in shock as his cock spurts white hot liquid all over his own body. it drenches the smattering of hair at his base and sprays all the way up to his shoulder and he gasps, hips bucking into nothing.

"oh," you say, giggling. "messy, huh?"

changbin huffs, thrashing his feet again. it's hard to take him seriously, cum covering his entire upper body and his cheeks blushing fervently. "shut up!" he turns to you then, grinning as if he's not got his own seed on his shoulder. "love you."

you smile, shaking your head fondly. "i love you too, baby."

hyunjin: definitely gets way too excited. he's fucking vibrating when he finally lays you down on his bed, and hyune is a romantic - you walked into his room to see multiple candles lit and god damn rose petals on the bed.

"my love," he coos, plump lips brushing over your shoulder. his hair tickles your neck, newly dyed dark and soft against your skin. "my first love, only love. thank you for letting me have you like this."

he wants you on top, too. his cock is curved perfectly to hit your g-spot and okay, maybe you get a little too excited at the thought of having that inside you while you're on top. it's gonna stretch you so perfectly, fill you up with his long length and you get to see that man looking so beautiful beneath you. you can't wait.

when you finally lower yourself onto his length, one of hyunjin's hands grips a bunch of rose petals and the other one knocks the lamp off the bedside table. "shit!" he exclaims, leaning over to try and look at the damage. you can see it's shattered on the floor because of course hyunjin's got one of those expensive, brittle ones on his bedside table. he shakes his head anyway, returning to his position laying flat and his hands going to your waist. "i don't care. continue, my love."

"hyunjin, the lamp..?" you question, but your hips are already grinding against his. you were right. his cockhead presses deliciously against that spongey spot inside of you, and it's so sweet the way his lips form a blissed out smile, tongue licking over his teeth. "is it- do you like it, baby? do i feel okay?"

hyunjin nods quickly, a bead of sweat forming at his temple. your pace is slow, and you were worried he wasn't enjoying from how quiet he was, but when you look into his eyes you can see the truth. "i'm just- i'm trying not to get too excited, or i might hurt myself. i'm literally trying so hard not to like, backflip right now."

"please don't backflip when you're inside me," you admonish, and hyunjin giggles. you let him flip you over, his forearms holding him up over you, and then he's moving inside of you. his cock is so long it feels neverending everytime he pushes back inside, breaching your drippy hole over and over to the point you feel you might be going insane.

hyunjin's chain drops into your face, and you find your eyes crossing as your gaze follows it with every thrust. you're whining, fully pliant on the bed for your boyfriend's cock for the first time, and you can't help yourself when you take his chain into your mouth.

hyunjin halts, gasping, and then his eyes are rolling back into his head. you feel his cock spurting warmth inside of you, and as he tries to ride his orgasm out with desperate, jerking movements, his head thuds into the headboard.

"ah!" he squeaks, head dropping to your chest. he's stopped moving now, and you giggle, rubbing your hand over his head. "i'm so embarrassing. that was so fucking good though, next time i'll try not to destroy the room."

"try not to give yourself concussion next time, too, baby."

felix: honestly, you're surprised it took so long. felix has gotten embarrasingly rock solid in his trousers every single time you've made out or even just sat on his lap. he's so horny you know he fucks his fist multiple times a day, you've heard it. you just didn't want to rush him into sex before he was ready.

turns out he'd been ready the whole time, especially when he's now rutting into your core desperately. it also turns out lee felix was a bonafide freak, begging you to let him fuck you raw so he could feel every inch of you around his cock. his cock isn't too big, a nice, easy size to take, and when he'd pushed in you'd been moaning easily for him.

his hips slap against yours now, years of dance practice leading him into an easy, slick slide. his forearms clench either side of your head, and his heart shaped lips are parted, unabashed deep groans falling for them.

"i'm gonna- i'm gonna cum, i'm sorry, it's early, i need to," felix grunts, and you coo at him, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes. he moves to kiss your thumb where you rested it on his face, and then he sucks the digit into his mouth. it makes your pussy gush even more, adding to the wet noises of skin on skin between your legs, and felix whines around your thumb at the addition of slick on his cock. your thumb drops from his mouth, wet with spit. "gonna- g'na fuckin' blow, baby, baby, princess, i'm cumming-"

his hips stop, and you feel the cum spurt inside of you. the abundance of it oozes out of your hole, warm and thick around his cock, and you realise felix has started to move again.

"want more," he whines, licking into your mouth. his breath is heavy against your lips. "do you want more? i want more, it's so good, i can't stop. i'm still fuckin' hard, baby."

"gimme more, lixie," you nod, nipping at his bottom lip. "give my pussy more. you like it? wet enough?"

"fuckin' soaked, gonna- gonna fill you up loads, gonna fuckin- you're gonna be dripping with me for days, and then i'll just do it again."

seungmin: it's shocking to see your cool, calm and collected, almost reserved boyfriend fall apart beneath you. you've been grinding on his naked cock for a while now, and he can't help his hips canting while he tries to slip into you. your folds are soaked, gliding on his cock with the most pleasurable slide you've ever felt.

"babe, i think- i think i wanna put it in now," seungmin mumbles, cheeks burning red. he's so cute like this, fully naked on your bed with his cock flat against his tummy for you to use.

"yeah, i know," you giggle, and he swats at your thigh playfully. "you're rock hard, seungmin. you think i don't realise?"

"well- put it in, then, god," he huffs, and when you just raise an eyebrow at him, he's lifting you up by your waist. he positions his cockhead at your hole, the slit just as drippy as your pussy is, and then he's lowering you down. seungmin keeps eye contact with you as you lower onto his shaft, thick and stretching you with a gasp.

"that's big, seungmin," you murmur, and seungmin grins.

"yeah? big enough for you?" it's your turn to slap him playfully, and then you're grinding along his cock. you consider briefly that you may be getting addicted to it, the way his cockhead presses deep against your cervix in this position.

seungmin isn't fairing too well, either. all cocky comments he had in his head have disappeared, mind going fuzzy at the feeling of you on his cock. this is what he's been waiting for? it's been fucking worth it, definitely. you're going to have trouble getting his cock out of you from now on.

"god, how has- how has no one sat on this before? it's fucking- it's so good, seungmin," you huff, and despite feeling the burn in your thighs, you start to bounce. the sudden movement has his fingertips digging into your hips painfully, and with one thrust of his hips meeting yours, he's cumming. you feel it before you recognise it, but you giggle anyway, bouncing just a bit more to let him ride out his orgasm.

he fills you up to the point it starts to drip back out onto his pubic hair, and then he yanks you down to lay on his chest. "give me five minutes," he yawns, hand threading into your hair. he's still inside you, cock softening but still feeling so, so full. "give me five minutes, and i'll fuck you properly, nice and dirty. i'll make you cum."

[craziertogether]

stancy & mileven

GOOD LORD THIS IS A LONG ONE. but i hope you guys enjoy it)

so i often think about stancy and mileven in the grand scheme of the show & fandom. if someone ships mileven it’s almost a guarantee that they will ship stancy too. i’m gonna be honest this usually tells me 1-2 major things about the person, you’re too young and have a very immature outlook on love OR you’re used to face value & toxic love/infatuation.

stancy is THE most perfect portrayal of the first “popular” / “bad boy” boyfriend a teenage girl most often gets. i say this from experience, like nancy i was a “good girl” that became infatuated with my first boyfriend, a trouble maker/womanizer but a good time. that is what stancy represents, a good time but nothing permanent or even endgame just the guy who makes her feel special. it kills me how much i relate to nancy but it also kills me more to think about how people are romanticizing stancy because of season 4. we just watched the rest of the show with our eyes closed huh? yes he was very sweet coming back to help clean up the movie theatre and IG the season 4 confession about his dreams with her were “cute”. but i’m sorry to say this like its not the most obvious thing ever but, you do NOT have to love someone because they love you. love is not enough to keep a relationship together. and unfortunate all steve has for her is that same high school idealistic view of nancy that made him fall for her. steve did not understand nancy, nor her goals her passions. that specific scene in s4 when jonathan listed off how hardworking and determined she was and how he couldn’t come between her and her goals. he showed what she REALLY needed, someone who understood her and knew that he couldn’t get in the way of that. steve and nancy are what people who don’t understand how mature relationships are. they’re not codependent (like steve + nancy). they’re not fully based around lust (like steve + nancy). they’re not based all on the goals of one person (like steve describing his insane dream of marriage and kids asap). (PS showing steve with like 10 other girls away from nancy and then bringing back his “i actually always wanted nancy all along in s4 was LAME and just a way to show the audience imo that those ships are also SUPERFICIAL AS HELL. the audience saw right through it, that nancy and jonathan were better for each other, it might’ve revived some stancy shippers to hear the “i love her still” about nancy. but guys COME ON. you’re telling me the GA somewhat saw through that fake revival of feelings but not through mileven and mike’s confession? i cannot today.) anyways i wanna say that if jancy not endgame, that’s insane first off, but second nancy can be alone and independent but to put her back with steve would be like the worst possible outcome. just like mileven.

as for mileven, it’s the same thing. as i stated before i was a mileven lover, but i was also 10/11 and i wasn’t aware that queer relationships could happen. if we take out the byler aspect of why mileven is doomed. we completely overlook the fact that they are the young version of stancy. the love at first sight lie, something that i know many girls can probably relate to, my elementary boyfriend seemed like my husband. i was conditioned to think heteronormative thoughts, that i had to absolutely marry a man and i had to be someone’s perfect wife. that’s why mileven fans think it’s the perfect outcome for mileven wedding and naming kids after the members of the group that may die. it’s not just childish but it comes from a lack of understanding complex relationships and from the conditioning of staying in a toxic relationship. mileven shows how empty and unreliable both mike and el are for each other, outside of mike being unable to say “i love you” to el, mike can’t stop idolizing her for ONE sole part of her identity (ahem steve + nancy w/ her being the good girl that’s a virgin) & el can’t stop idolizing mike for her idea of love (ahem nancy to steve when she grew up seeing her parents, thinking she can stay with him even after she felt her connection to jonathan and choosing to be with him because it was comfortable and it was easy, it’s what was expected of her by steve’s friends). both mileven and stancy represent what it means to be confined to heteronormative and social norms, they prevent you from becoming who you’re meant to be/ be with.

it’s crazy to me too because we see how many people LOVE nancy with a gun and think she literally is so badass and showed off incredible skill throughout the seasons and yet fail to see that the MAJORITY of those scenes are with jonathan?? (like will and mike they bring out the absolute best in the other). they know the other better than anyone else, even when they fight, they fight and it’s real, it’s raw. they fight through honesty and they fight because they love the other and they KNOW that they can take it. with jonathan calling out nancy in season 3, we see how he's calling her out for being immature for not being able to see that he is poor and he struggles and he needed that job, she fought with him bc it felt like he was coming from a place of ignorance and not addressing her mistreatment. they’re both incredibly honest even if it hurts the other one. versus her fight with steve, she can’t even honestly say the words “i love you”, so instead she stays silent. (HMM I WONDER WHO THAT SOUNDS LIKE…. mike queeler). but also when jancy is together they’re TOGETHER. they have heart to hearts, strong ones. they have MATCHING SCARS GUYS. even thousands of miles apart, they describe the other like the light of their life, they call out the TRAITS that make the other so wonderful (unlike steve who literally js thinks of nancy as his first love and who’s pretty). jonathon believed nancy and goes on a literal psychotic bender to find murray and get justice for barb, versus steve who remind me again, says they should try to be “normal” and party? yeah sounds a lot like another person trying to be normal. direct parallels blow me away btw, the GA has to be choosing to act blind on purpose. but yeah, let’s switch to mileven then byler. every major fight between mileven has been because mike lied or felt lied to. he felt lied to by el when she said that will was alive, he lies to her in s3 about his grandma and acts like he can’t completely understand her species (queer coding to the MAX) and in season 4 hes once again lying to her and SHE is also lying to him. dare i say, they’re not fighting with the OTHER, they’re fighting to keep their facade up.

and now let’s look at byler (my beloved)!!! 1) the first relationship established in the show is byler, like it or not, that moment of intimacy “it was a 7”, soulmate behavior. 2) complete and TOTAL trust from both of them. it’s interesting that will only tries to tell two people in the show that hes still alive. joyce his MOTHER, and MIKE with his walkie talkie. not jonathan who has a radio system? not dustin? not lucas? not hopper? the police? no. he chooses his mom and mike, interesting. 3) he hides his struggles from his friends and his family, everyone treats him like hes weak like hes different but not mike? why not mike? i mean he spends the most time with mike and yet, you’re telling me mike never once maybe slipped over his words and said something insensitive, no instead he “makes him feel better for being different”. 4) now onto the actual fights, bc this is really long. when will and mike fight, it’s raw and real, it hurts the audience to see will hurting because he’s been through so much trauma, and yet, mike hurts him anyways, but will CANNOT stay away. one moment i think we forget to mention is in s2, when mike gets angry about max, mike takes a jab at will. “did you agree to this?” “you should’ve told ME first.” will literally looks SO defeated & hurt. why mike? why does will need to tell you? you’re the leader? you own will? no. it’s bc will wasn’t honest to him, will didn’t come to mike about a big decision. also yeah a little gay bc why are you mad about a girl. but okay. and the season 3, yes the rain fight is back. i won’t dissect it any more but i will say, mike’s cruelness towards will was so unwarranted. but will’s willingness to say what no one else was willing to was yet another example of how deep their relationship is. calling mike out for being a shit friend, that’s will being what mike asked of him (season 2 halloween & honesty), and yet mike’s become too afraid of revealing his own feelings, but he’s still somewhat honest to will. he’s projecting his feelings to will, he’s TELLING ON HIMSELF here. and yes we know he regrets it runs back. but the fight is what matters it’s them still being real and honest to the other even if they don’t realize it just yet. season 4 is just another extension of the season 3 fight, but this time, they’re both projecting/accusing and yet insanely they’re both still being honest. will’s accusing mike of yet again abandoning him while deflecting his fault for not calling and mike’s projecting his homosexual thoughts into will, and yet again hes still being fully transparent to will, he calls out will’s bad behavior & WILL’S lack of effort too. all of this to say, we can see as the audience, queer or not, it’s practically crystal clear that stancy & mileven are parallels and only exist to show the audience immature, unreal love. while byler & jancy actually show the hardships of true love. romantic or not, they show how love is meant to be. it’s mean to be hard it’s meant to be painful, it’s meant to make you doubt, take a step back and remember that nothing is perfect but that it can always be worked through. byler & jancy make ALL parties involved better/uplift the other while stancy & mileven do the opposite they lead to lying, they lead to trying to uphold the “perfect” couple image and forgetting to make the other better because they’re too busy trying to make themselves look good. these ships are selfish and don’t put the other person’s needs into perspective. CRAZY btw that stancy (platonic) & elmike are WONDERFUL. they showcase the care they have for the other and how deep their relationship can actually become when they’re faced with life or death. one example is how mike reacted in season 3 when billy was coming after el and he found his courage to hit billy (mileven was broken up) but in season 4 despite being together and all love dove, in a serious moment, mike just can’t do anything to help el, she needed him and yet he couldn’t deliver romantically but he could platonically! reminding her to fight vs the i love you’s (duffers were crazy for this.

basically, stancy & mileven CANNOT be endgame and byler and jancy don’t have to be endgame bc the wheelers might enter an independent era. however, they cannot return to the people that have done nothing for their character development except show the audience how much better off they are without them. also if you think about it this is literally applicable to all endgame ships, jopper, duzie, lumax, & rovickie. nobody doubts jopper, why? because bob was adorable but they were low-key superficial, hopper understood joyce and was willing to believe “crazy joyce”. and even their fights in season 3, so interesting that we see this olive branch that exists between them from joyce even after they spend the ENTIRE season arguing. lumax, endgame from the jump, dustin was superficially fascinated with max bc she was a girl that had boy-ish interests he didn’t even know her, he didn’t try like lucas really did, you could say he didn’t have the chance, but it’s just too clear that lucas saw her as an equal, dustin saw her as an ideal figure (HMMM) & rovickie + stobin , teaches the audience that queer people deserve love and acceptance, exactly what they’ve been denied over and over. and dustin and suzie, insane that dustin had to teach steve that social norms don’t matter, that he should pursue the person who understand him best. suzie is gorgeous to dustin and she’s a brainiac that is now dustin’s equal. dustin has his disability but it doesn’t change at all how suzie sees him, she sees him for his perfections. jonathan is the outcast with mrs. perfect, two people who don’t “make sense” and yet fit together better than any popular jock for nancy. and byler, don’t get me started AGAIN, no one understands will like mike does, and no one makes mike feel better than will does. these ships don’t have to make sense to the outside world, just to the other.